Where Is Your Home?
by daphrose
Summary: Who are your people? Where is your home? What do you fight for? Who do you fight for? Who would you kill? Who would you die for? Who is your family? Who are your friends? Why are you here? Why . . . why are you here? / Your people are evil. Your home was destroyed. Your fight has no meaning. Your family is gone. Your friends are dead. Why . . . why are you here? [?-shot]
1. Where Is Your Home?

**Spoilers for Home Sweet Home. I tried to catch all grammar and spelling and mistakes, but I'm sorry if any slip through (they usually do).**

 **I don't own Lab Rats: Elite Force or any of its characters or locations. I do own Emily, Jakk, Haskla-Rue, Rilk, the Rogeyo species, and the plot. Enjoy.**

* * *

 *** * * Where Is Your Home? * * ***

* * *

"No pulse. She's gone." Scarlet removed her fingers from the dead girl's neck. She straightened, let out a sigh, and began to rock on her heels.

Emily smirked. "What? Having second thoughts, Scarlet?"

"Absolutely not!" Maybe she spoke with too much haste, too much desperation. She cleared her throat. "If this is what it takes . . ."

"It is." Emily said. Her expression softened and she put a hand on Scarlet's shoulder. "Look, I know you don't like killing another Calderans. I don't like it either. But this is what's necessary to save our planet. They don't understand."

Scarlet nodded. "I just . . . I thought we'd only have to fight this war against others. Not ourselves."

Emily's face lost its softness. "They _chose_ to unite themselves with others. With those aliens . . . with _humans_." She spat out the word with utter contempt. "They picked the wrong side of this fight. They are not 'ourselves.' There is no 'our,' no 'us.' They allied with the enemy."

"Sure, but . . ."

Emily's fingers grew tighter on Scarlet's shoulder, tight enough to dig into flesh and draw blood. "We didn't rescue you from the lava pits to have you turn against us. The Opposition will not be . . . opposed!"

"I'm not opposing you," Scarlet said in an even tone. She shook off Emily's hand and took a step back, being careful not to trip on the dead girl's body—Betty, that was her name. "I'm just wondering why we had to go to them."

"We still needed Skylar. You're the one who let her get away, in case you didn't remember. And those friends of hers would've protected her to the death. We did what we had to do."

"You don't think humans will seek revenge?"

Emily laughed. "Revenge? Humans are too stupid for revenge. They have no idea. Their superheroes are dead or dying. Their so-called 'police' and 'governments' are afraid of people like Skylar and her friends. They don't understand, and even if they wanted to go after the people they call 'freaks,' they surely wouldn't know to look on another planet for any of them."

Scarlet nodded. She agreed: humans—especially normos—were weak, stupid, helpless, incompetent, greedy, deceitful, and odd. She'd never understood Skylar's drive to help them. Why not stay and help out your friends, the people who truly care about you?

Nonetheless, Scarlet had been increasingly questioning the Opposition's methods. The idea to bring Skylar and her human friends back to Caldera had backfired when three escaped—Skylar included. Of the remaining two, one had died, and the other remained in prison, but they still hadn't figured out how to use the prisoner to their advantage. The three escapees couldn't return home, but they had been living fine on Caldera for months, even going so far as to lend aid to the Resistance—those who would see the Opposition's reign come to an end. The whole affair made the Opposition look deficient, which they most certainly were not.

Humans were useless. Most aliens from other planets were inferior at least. The Opposition had the right idea, and yet Scarlet couldn't keep the doubts out of her mind.

"We saved your life," Emily said. "At the very least, you owe us that much."

Scarlet's hand crept toward her hair. Most of it had been burned by the pits before she was rescued, and what was left could only be cut into a messy pixie cut that was only just starting to grow out. She'd spent weeks recovering at the hands of the best Calderan healers, but she still had red marks all over her body—burn scars that would remain her whole life. A few more inches and she would've been entirely immersed in the lava, an instantaneous death. Instead she managed to cling to the wall, severely burning her lower legs and other areas exposed to the bubbling lava. Her hair caught on fire after a few minutes, which resulted in the mangled mess in the present. But she didn't die. A few more minutes and she would've, but the Opposition came. They saved her from certain doom.

As Scarlet recovered, she had tried to convince herself it had all been Skylar's fault, but she knew her own shortsightedness had been to blame. Skylar had caused her to fall into the pits—certain death—and the Opposition had rescued her—certain life. If only things were that black and white; if only Scarlet could believe it.

Emily brought Scarlet out of her thoughts by forcefully gripping the front of her shirt. "You owe us your life! Don't forget that."

Emily released her and Scarlet stumbled back. The two had been friends for many years. They had joined the Opposition together, but undoubtedly each had seen many changes in the other since then. The violence, the rage . . . the fear.

"I'm sorry," Emily said. She looked like she meant it, too. "It's just . . . it's getting harder and harder to know who to trust."

"I know what you mean." Scarlet smoothed out of the front of her shirt and tried to look dignified. She stepped over Betty's body and began to head back to Opposition headquarters. "But rest assured, Emily, we have a common enemy here." But even as she said it, Scarlet questioned the truth of that statement.

* * *

Bree crept around the rocks, her heart pounding in her chest, same as always. She didn't like her own fear, but she didn't know how to beat it. On a strange planet, helping a strange people, living a strange new life.

She found the entrence to the cave and slipped inside. Luckily, Caldera had many such caves, and the Opposition had yet to find this particular one. Still, in way of precautions, they had a careful system to keep out anyway unwanted visitors.

Bree walked to the back of the cave, knelt down, and began to move some of the rocks around, forming a shape she'd had to memorize in detail. Then she stood, and a deep voice said, "Name?"

"Bree Davenport. Resistance material."

The solid rock in front of her slid away to reveal a boy with dark hair and eyes—a boy who looked the same as every other male Calderan. This one had his hands extended and an orange glow to his palms. He dropped his hands when he caught sight of Bree, and he grinned. "Right this way."

Bree stepped in beside him, and he pulled up the rock behind them. Then he pulled down the opposite wall, opening it up to the deeper caverns below the volcano. Here the bustling activity of the Resistance went on in full view. Many Calderan boys and girls walked around, as well as a handful of alien species.

"Bree!" Skylar called as she ran up. "Thank goodness you're here. How'd the scouting go?"

"The western reaches are free from Opposition activity," Bree reported. She fell into step with Skylar as they walked through the naturally-formed halls. "But I noticed they set up some sort of camp in the caves to the east. I didn't go in for a closer look."

"That's fine; you shouldn't go in alone. We'll send out a team."

Bree nodded, but she still felt bad. She could've used her invisibility to scout around more. She would've, but she was so . . . scared. She was terrified of these Calderans—especially the Opposition—and she hated it. Still, she had reasons. She had seen the destruction they could bring. These people had ripped her from her home and taken her and her friends prisoner. Even now that she had gotten free, she knew she couldn't return home until they defeated the Opposition—when or if that happened. This group that led Caldera took down the wi-fi; the humans couldn't contact earth for help. No help, no escape, and hardly any hope left.

"Hey," Skylar said, her voice soft. She stood still and took Bree's hand in hers. "Don't worry. We'll win this war, and we'll find Chase and Kaz again."

"That's assuming they're still alive." Bree had never been much of an optimist.

Skylar opened her mouth to protest, but then shut it again. Both girls knew that the Opposition had probably killed off Chase and Kaz long ago. And if they weren't dead, then they most certainly were being horrendously tortured. But it was telling that the Opposition hadn't used either boy as bait for a trap. Surely they would've if they were still . . . Bree didn't like to think about it.

If only they had planned their escape a little better. If only they had spent more time developing it. If only hadn't been so rushed, so high-strung, so . . . so _stupid_. Bree, Skylar, and Oliver all blamed themselves for the abandonment of their team members.

The final three joined the Resistance so they could stamp out the Opposition once and for all. They did it because they wanted to know the fates of their friends, and to save them if there was even a slim chance. Skylar did it because she loved her people and wanted to see them freed. Bree and Oliver did it because they wanted to go home.

They all had their reasons. They all had their hopes. Every one of the Resistance members—Calderan or alien—was fighting for something. They all had a desire to see Caldera free, to return to their home, to save their friends. The same idea permeated all mindsets; where language differed, where looks differed, where personality differed, where religion differed, where background differed, they all agreed on one thing: the Opposition needed to fall.

Skylar had been staring at the ground for several seconds, but now she looked up. "We'll find them."

"Sure." Bree was too tired to protest. She wanted to believe it, really. But how could she? The Opposition was ruthless. She didn't want to get her hopes up only to stumble upon the charred body of her brother. Instead, she let fear take the reigns. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't stop it. She couldn't stop it. She couldn't stop it.

They started to walk again down the hall, passing other Calderans and aliens running through, trying to stay alive long enough to bring down an oppressive regime. The two girls didn't walk very far before Skylar stopped again. She had her hands in her back pockets and a quizzical look on her face.

"Is something wrong?" Bree asked.

"I was about to ask you that. Are you feeling okay?"

Bree shrugged. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know; it's just . . ." Skylar stopped and shook her head. "Never mind." The two began to walk again, but Skylar continued to glance at Bree with . . . what? . . . worry? fear? suspicion?

Of course Bree felt okay. Why wouldn't she? Why wouldn't she?

Because she didn't. Because she hadn't for a while—not since their escape five months earlier. But she knew why, and she figured they all felt the same way. It wasn't a physical illness, though it would often manifest itself physically. It was all the emotions, the confusion, the fear . . . the fear especially.

Ever since their escape Bree had been overwhelmed by this sense of _doom_. As a bionic hero, she knew how to press through it, and she had. Still, the more they faced this Opposition, the more fights they lost, the more they seemed to be stymied at every turn, the worse her fear got. It left her unable to sleep many nights. She'd felt ill . . . because of the fear. It had always been the fear.

Where the fear itself had come from, she didn't know. In fact, she never even stopped to consider it. If she had, then maybe, just maybe, things never would've gotten as bad as they did.

As it was, Bree chalked all her ailments up to fear and never questioned the fear itself. So when she felt nauseous every time she stood, she blamed fear. When she couldn't properly control her powers, she blamed fear. When she stumbled in front of Skylar and almost ate pavement—or in this case, rock—she blamed fear.

Skylar, with all her superhero reflexes, reached out and caught Bree before she fell. She helped her friend stand back up, but she didn't let go of her wrist. Bree turned to see Skylar standing still with her eyes closed and her breathing even. The bionic had seen that look on her brother many times, so she knew what it meant: Skylar was listening intently to something most human beings couldn't hear. Bree wanted to shake her hand out of her friend's grip, but something about Skylar's expression kept her from doing so.

"Bree." Skylar opened her eyes, and now Bree could correctly identity the emotion in them: concern. An extreme level of concern, in fact, reaching and exceeding previously unknown limits. The concern mingled with fear—a fear that even Bree found absurd and radical. "Your heart is pounding."

As if Bree hadn't noticed. It was starting to make her chest hurt. "I'm just tired." This time she did attempt to wrench her hand away from Skylar, but it didn't work. Skylar held on and moved closer to Bree.

"You're burning up."

"Yeah, well, we're on a volcano planet, in case you hadn't noticed."

Skylar wasn't having the humor. "Bree." Her voice was stern and commanding, the kind of voice that let Bree know there would be no backing out of this. She would have to answer honestly.

"I haven't been sleeping well," she said. That was honest.

Skylar's eyes scanned her face. "There's more than that."

"What do you want from me?" Bree didn't like being interrogated like this. Nothing was wrong that shouldn't be wrong for their situation. "I'm just stressed out. We all are. You can't say you're feeling one hundred percent either."

"No," Skylar admitted. "But Bree, I think you're—"

"Skylar, I'm okay. We have bigger things to worry about." Bree didn't like this. Her chest was beginning to hurt more. She wanted to go lie down.

"I think you should rest."

Bree snorted. "I agree. Can you let go of me so I can go do that, please?"

Skylar obliged, releasing Bree's wrist. "Can you walk?"

"Yes, I can walk." Bree rubbed her wrist and straightened, determined not to make a fool out of herself. She didn't need this patronization, this stupid concern. She was only afraid, only tired, only overwhelmed with life. She was a bionic hero; these feelings never left. "I'm not an infan—"

Her heart stopped. Literally. The pounding monstrosity seized up in her chest and she screamed. Then it started again, stronger, harder than before. She screamed. Clawed. Gasped for air.

Several seconds of eternity went by, and Bree gradually became aware of the arms wrapped around her, of the voice whispering her name. She looked up into Skylar's compassionate, concerned face. Why did she have to cause grief to her friends this way?

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't say something like that, Bree." Skylar lifted her friend off the ground and supported her. "Let's get you somewhere where you can rest."

Then the fear shot through Bree like a bolt of lightning. She could feel her limbs trembling. "Let go of me!" She meant to shout it, but it came out weak and strained. She fumbled around trying to push off Skylar. Panic and fear flooded every sense. She couldn't figure it out. She didn't know why. This wasn't just fear anymore, but pure terror—pure, _senseless_ terror.

"Bree!"

Her head cleared. Skylar looked into her eyes. Concern. Pure concern. Pure terror. Bree hated it.

The terror was coming back. Bree could feel it rising up in her chest, ready to suffocate her, ready to snuff out her life. She gripped Skylar's hands with all her strength, which by now had been so reduced that her hand would've slid right off Skylar's had she not chosen to grasp Bree's hand in return. Bree looked into the eyes of her friend. Skylar's eyes had conveyed concern; Bree's eyes needed to convey her desperation.

Here the terror, the weakness, this unknown illness had reached its culmination. Bree couldn't stand; she couldn't breathe. She had one last hope, so in a small voice she whispered, "Help me," and her dead weight fell into Skylar's awaiting arms.

* * *

"No pulse. She's gone."

Oliver pursed his lips. Yes, all female Calderans looked alike, but he knew Betty when he saw her. The sweet girl had met a bitter end at the hands of the Opposition.

How many more had to die?

"Spread out," Oliver commanded, glancing at the other aliens around him. "Scout the area, but don't engage if you see an hostiles. Keep in touch, and stay in visibility of at least one other person. We don't need to bury another body."

The alien squad nodded and dissipated. Oliver sighed. First doctor, now army commander. He missed the good old days when he and Kaz played video games together, when their biggest worry was an upcoming science test. Who knew the world of superheroes could be this dangerous and horrifying?

Kaz . . . Oliver missed Kaz . . .

Jakk stood up from where he had been squatting over Betty. He dusted off his hands and looked at his leader. "I'm sorry," he said. "Should we . . . you know . . . take her back with us?"

Oliver pursed his lips. "I think so. She was a hero. She deserves a proper burial."

Betty had led Oliver, Bree, and Skylar to the Resistance in the first place. She was a fierce girl with a brave heart, gladly taking on missions that would restore her planet to its former glory. She'd been a rising leader of the Resistance, and to see her meet such a gruesome end at the hands of her own people left Oliver feeling sick to his stomach. He couldn't believe the Opposition could be so ruthless.

Jakk pulled off his coat and used it to wrap up Betty's body. There wasn't much blood, thankfully. He scooped the girl into his arms and stood up.

"You don't mind carrying her for the rest of the mission?" Oliver asked "We're not going back to base for a little while."

"I don't mind." Jakk looked down into the Calderan girl's face, and his own face reflected only grief. The two had been friends for years, and the realization must've hit Jakk as he felt Betty's cold, dead weight in his arms.

Jakk looked like all other Calderan boys, which meant he looked like Experion. It took Oliver a long time to get over that resemblance, but eventually—just as he'd done with Calderan females—he learned to distinguish them by personality and not by looks. Jakk was a kind boy, easygoing, but even he couldn't put up with the atrocities committed by the new ruling class of Caldera. He had friends in the Resistance, and soon he joined them. He went through it all without so much as a frown, but not always a smile. Sometimes he seemed detached, like he knew that if he got too emotionally invested he would never be able to fight again. As it was, Jakk was a strong solider and a good friend. Oliver enjoyed having him as a co-commander.

"So," Jakk said after several seconds. "Remind me of our plan again?"

"Betty couldn't have been killed more than three hours ago, so we're supposed to scout around here for any Opposition activity. They weren't supposed to be in this area."

"Right. You want me to stay here with Betty and you can help scout?"

"That's a good idea. Keep your radio handy."

Jakk nodded and set Betty down against a rock. He put a hand on his utility belt—the belt that contained his radio, dagger, water, binoculars, and other survival and fighting paraphernalia—and began to walk in a small radius around the rock.

Oliver walked east, making sure to keep as much of his team as possible in sight at all times. This was one of their most dangerous missions yet; the Opposition had been in this area recently, and the Resistance squad of thirteen wouldn't do well against a large-scale attack. Still, the rebel group needed more information, so they would send out their best and brightest to gather it at the cost of their lives. Somehow Oliver had wound up on this team. He would never complain; if Skylar's people needed his help, he would help them. He'd always had a deep respect for Calderan culture, and he didn't want to see it destroyed.

The Caldera landscape was beautiful this time of year—well, as beautiful as it ever got. It was their spring, so the weather was a mild 4500 degrees. The volcanos weren't as active, and the suns illuminated the red rocks during all hours of the day. Oliver rather liked it, so he took his spare moments during scouting to observe his surroundings.

Oliver climbed up an embankment so he could get a good look around. The field before his was empty apart from a few wild Dorenbosch. No Calderan citizens in sight, much less Opposition members. For once Oliver was grateful for the remoteness and desolation of the volcanic planet.

Still, as beautiful and awe-inspiring as Caldera was, Oliver felt homesick for earth. He could hardly believe it had been a whole eight months since he'd been home. Did anybody miss him? Did anybody even know he was gone? Everyone he loved had been taken with him, and he had to watch as they were tortured and mistreated. He'd hated every second of prison, and even their escape brought him little relief; Chase and Kaz hadn't escaped with them.

Oliver might never see Kaz again. He didn't even know if Kaz was alive or dead. By this point, everyone assumed dead. The Opposition would've used him as a hostage, surely. He'd probably already been killed, but Oliver didn't want to think like that. He needed to have hope; hope was all he had.

The buzz of his radio pulled Oliver out of his thoughts. The radios had a short radius, but enough to keep in contact with the Resistance base. The Opposition had cut off all other means of communication, so the walkie-talkie-like objects kept the rebels connected. They kept one with them at all times and prayed the Opposition wouldn't be able to hack the frequency.

"Hello?"

"Oliver, it's Skylar." They didn't bother using codes; if the Opposition was listening, the Resistance had already lost.

"Skylar, I can't talk right now; I'm scouting—"

"Drop it and come back."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oliver, Bree is dying."

It took a few seconds for those words to register. Oliver had seen a lot of death in his eight months on Caldera, and most of it during his time with the Resistance. It had become a simple dichotomy: life and death. But the deaths of beings Oliver didn't know didn't impact him the same as beings he did. He knew Bree. They couldn't lose Bree. They'd already lost so much, included Chase and Kaz—most likely to death. Bree was another fifth of their team they couldn't afford to part with. And besides that, she was a _human being_ and Oliver's friend. So as all this sunk into his foggy brain, Skylar continued talking.

"She's sick . . . really sick. I think she has been for a while and we just didn't know it. The healers are pretty sure she had Rilk—it's . . ." Skylar paused for a moment to search for the words. "It's a bacterial disease. It . . . I don't have time to explain. Just get back here."

"Is Rilk deadly?"

"I did say she was dying, didn't I?"

"I guess . . ." Oliver could feel his palms getting sweaty. He didn't like this. Even as a comic book enthusiast and former Mighty Med doctor, he had never heard of Rilk. Maybe Skylar was overreacting about its extremeness . . . but it was Skylar. She wouldn't do something like that. Maybe it was a prank, but Skylar wouldn't do something like that either. Not here, not now, during such a dangerous time in their lives. Besides, the emotion in her voice was real.

No overreaction. No joke. Bree was fighting for life as they spoke.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." He briefly wondered about how the Resistance leaders would react to him leaving his post, but Skylar cleared that up for him.

"I talked to some of the leaders. They're radioing Jakk right now; they've given your team permission to return early."

"Thanks."

"See you in a little bit."

"See you soon. Keep Bree alive until I get there."

The radio went silent, and for a few seconds Oliver didn't move. He needed a minute to process, but he didn't have a minute. Bree didn't have a minute.

He charged back to the rock where he had left Jakk. His thoughts raced as fast as his legs. Bree and Skylar were the two keeping him going, every minute of every day. He didn't know if he would see Chase and Kaz again. He didn't know if he would ever go back to earth again. But he had the girls, and he wouldn't know what to do without them. Even the fact that he was in love with Skylar didn't negate his friendship with Bree; to lose either of them would be more than he could bear.

Jakk stood with his radio by his mouth. He turned at Oliver's arrival. "I got the message. I called in our team; they'll be here in a few seconds."

Oliver had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts about his friends that he had forgotten to rally the rest of the squad. He praised Jakk's quick thinking as the Calderan picked up Betty again.

The rest of the squad soon returned, and one female Calderan, Haskla-Rue, rushed straight to Oliver. "Just in time," she said. "There are Opposition forces coming from the north. We need to get back, _now_."

That got them running. The rest might not know—or care—about Bree, but they would run a marathon back to base if they knew it meant saving their own hides.

As they ran, Oliver risked a glance back over his shoulder. He could see them now, coming over the horizon, seeming to glide over the rocks. They _were_ gliding over the rocks . . . _scooters_. They had scooters. The rebels had only their bare feet. Oliver's heart sank in his chest as he realized that there was no way they would make it back to base in time. It was over.

* * *

The last day of normalcy, of security, of peace had been a cool November morning. Scarlet's defeat had happened over a month earlier, but Skylar still thought about it every day. She hadn't been able to get an email to anyone on Caldera since; the Opposition took down the wi-fi and kept the people from using any means of outside communication. Skylar tried not to brood, but she couldn't help the sorrow she felt now that her people were practically enslaved and her best friend had died in a pit of lava.

It had been a calm day; no missions, no worry, no pranks from the boys. It had been normal and calm and quiet. Skylar went to sit out on the terrace with her laptop, ready to attempt another message to her homeworld. She was there with her chin in her hands when Bree came out and sat beside her.

"Still nothing?"

"No." Skylar sighed. "I'm sorry I'm so upset about this, Bree, but they're my people. I feel like I've let them down."

Bree nodded, tugging on the sleeves of her sweater. "They're your people?"

"Yes. I mean . . . you know I love you guys, but . . . don't you understand, Bree? I love them."

Bree flashed a soft smile. "I know you do. And I'm sorry for everything that's going on. But don't forget, your friends are here for you."

"Thanks." The girls hugged, and that might've been the last good moment of Skylar's life.

A noise came from inside the penthouse, and the girls got up to investigate, believing it to be the boys—probably doing something destructive. What they found was much worse.

There, stepping through a space portal, were at least a dozen Calderans. At the front was a hardly recognizable Calderan girl. Her hair and been chopped close to her head and her skin displayed ugly marks of black, red, and white. She had a murderous look in her eyes and a frown on her face. She raised her hand, displaying a swirl of glowing energy. "Good to see you again, Skylar," she said, her voice clipped.

"Scarlet." Skylar leaned into a fighting pose, but that didn't stop the awe and even relief in her voice. "You're not dead."

Scarlet scowled . . . a terrifying face for her to make. "No thanks to you."

"You're not taking Skylar back with you," Bree said as she too assumed a fighting pose.

Scarlet laughed. "No, of course not. At least, not just her. We want you all." She raised her glowing hand, and the dozen Calderans raised theirs with her.

Skylar didn't remember much of the ensuing battle. She got knocked unconscious a few minutes in. She did remember the boys showing up to help, and she did remember the massive damage the penthouse and its belongings sustained. But after her world went black, she'd woken up in another cavernous dungeon cell with her powers blocked.

They'd taken her friends out of their home and destroyed it. They left the humans with no way back to earth—all non-Opposition Calderans who had a space portal ability found it blocked or removed. There would be no leaving. Skylar didn't understand why the Opposition had to ruin the lives of innocents. The rest of her team didn't deserve to suffer for the mistakes of her people! Such were the thoughts she dwelt on during her long three months in prison.

And such were the thoughts she dwelt on as she sat by Bree's side in the poor excuse for a medical room. Bree lay on a low cot with a blanket over her body and some pillows under her head. A few monitors kept track of her progress, but their fluctuating, rapid, uneven beeping left only the grim realization that "progress" was not the correct word. There were some wires, some tubes, some medications. Not enough.

Rilk was not a mere childhood disease. It developed over several months and attacked the brain and the heart, giving the victim an overwhelming sense of panic and terror. In the later stages it began to destroy these organs, leading to almost certain death. If caught in the earlier stages, it was treatable, but the treatment process was not fun. Skylar had contracted Rilk as a child, and she remembered the paralyzing fear that went with it. She spent four weeks with the healers, and for most of that time she could only shiver and scream. It wasn't even as bad as it could've been: Calderans had developed a certain resistance that kept the worst side effects of Rilk at bay. The terror, exhaustion, and pounding heart were all still there, but most Calderans—including Skylar—experienced them mildly, even if it didn't seem like it in the throes of the disease.

Skylar shuddered to think of what her friend must've been going. Bree was bionic, so maybe that helped, but she was also a human with no immunity to these alien diseases. And with no idea that such a disease even existed, she must've thought she was going insane.

Skylar cursed herself repeatedly for not noticing the signs earlier. Now because of her negligence her friend might very well die.

Bree wasn't in the final stages of Rilk yet. She could, in theory, be saved. But the Resistance was cut off from the help of the rest of the planet. With so little support, so little money, there was no way they could acquire the necessary medicine. Skylar didn't know what to do. She felt helpless, and she _hated_ feeling helpless.

This was all her fault. It was her planet, her people, her responsibility. Now thanks to her, they had already lost two members of their team and were about to lose a third.

Ever since learning about the formation of the Opposition, Skylar had wanted to return to her home planet. She wanted to free her people and give them a better life. She'd almost picked up the wormhole transporter to return to Caldera several times. She never did, but now she regretted not going. If she had gone, they never would've come back to Centium City to capture her and her friends. Chase and Kaz would still be around, and Bree wouldn't be dying. The four of them would be safe, and that was all Skylar could ask for. But now they were in grave danger, dead or dying, fighting a fight that was not their own, and Skylar could do nothing to help them.

All she wanted was her people freed. All she wanted was for her friends to be safe, okay, _alive_. Was that too much to ask for?

"Excuse me, Skylar?" A grey humanoid with an elephantine trunk on his face peeked through the door. He was a Rogeyo, a species from another planet in Skylar's solar system. They were Calderan allies, and a few had come to aid the Resistance and free their sister planet. "My apologies, but it appears your friend Oliver is in trouble."

Skylar groaned and swallowed to keep the tears from spilling over. _Was it really too much to ask for?!_ "What kind of trouble?"

"It appears his squad was on the way back when they were ambushed by Opposition forces. They appear to be holding up all right for now, but we're sending in reinforcements. I came to ask, well . . ."

"If I want to go?"

The Rogeyo nodded. "I know you want to stay with your sick friend, and I respect that. I'll give you a moment to make the decision. They leave in seven minutes, so if you want to go, meet in the briefing room before they leave. Goodbye. I'm sorry."

Skylar took a moment to collect herself. She didn't want to leave Bree's side, not now. But Oliver needed her help. It took her less time than she thought it would to make her choice.

"I'm sorry, Bree," she whispered to her insensate friend. "But if I can't help you, I need to help somebody. I won't sit around here feeling useless." She gripped her friend's hand in hers. Bree's skin was pale and clammy, but Skylar hardly even noticed. "I love you. Please still be here when I get back."

Skylar leaned in closer, but then she hesitated. Kisses were often seen as a sign of romance for humans, but they could also be platonic, couldn't they? She didn't have time to think. She leaned down and planted a kiss on Bree's feverish cheek. She looked up at the clock: four more minutes. She stood to go, giving Bree's hand one more squeeze. "Don't die." And she left.

* * *

The cell was a mere sixty-four square feet. Five hundred and twelve cubic feet. He'd spent his first few days in it measuring with his hands. Eight feet by eight feet by eight feet . . . that is, if you ignore all the craters and dimples in the cave walls. Then the numbers varied slightly.

Chase had spent five months in this cell, ever since he'd been caught during his attempted escaped. Very little had happened since then. No one talked to him or even looked at him. He got fed, but that was all. He had to work out his own exercise and sleep schedule, and he was responsible for his own entrainment. Most of it involved complicated math equations etched into the dirt of his floor.

The cell blocked his bionic abilities, but he still had his memory drive, which meant he still had his intelligence. He just couldn't _do_ anything with it, other than entertain himself. But he was grateful to have it at all, because otherwise he would've died of boredom.

He thought a lot about his friends. He didn't know if the rest of them had made it out or what they were doing now. He knew nothing, and unless they won, he would never know anything. Every day his hope waned a little more. He wanted to believe in them, he did, but when you've spent countless hours scratching numbers into the dirt, you can't help but develop a pessimistic view of the world—er, worlds.

Chase wanted to see his sister again, even if she annoyed him. He loved her. He wanted to see Skylar again, even if she was an alien and he didn't understand her. (For goodness' sake, he was being held captive on an alien planet! He would _have_ to be a believer now.) He wanted to see Oliver again, even if they had had a bit of a rivalry. Chase actually thought they had a lot in common, and he enjoyed hanging out with someone who truly understood him. He wanted to see Kaz again, even if Kaz was immature and wild. Someone needed to be the comedy relief.

Chase wanted to go home. He didn't want to live on an alien planet, much less in a prison on an alien planet. He wanted to go back . . . not just to the penthouse, but to the Davenport mansion. _Home_. He wanted to see his father—both of them, actually. He wanted to see Tasha and Leo. Heck, he even wanted to see Adam again. He missed them all so much.

These were his thoughts—thoughts of home and friends and family—when a Calderan girl walked up to the bars of his cell. Now, Chase had a hard time telling Calderan females apart, even from Skylar. They all looked exactly the same to him. But this one was distinctly different. She had cropped hair that had grown almost to her shoulders. She had flecks of charred skin dotting her face. Most of the areas of her body not hidden by her clothing were an unhealthy shade of red. She walked with a limp and always had a scowl. In a room full of identical Calderan girls, she would stand out like an English word in a series of math equations: Scarlet.

"What do you want?" Chase asked. He didn't stand up, but he tensed his muscles in case he needed to.

"I want your help." Scarlet knelt down herself, right in front of the bars to Chase's cell.

Chase started at the sound of another voice. He'd talked to himself many time in his cell—not in a crazy way, but rather to _keep_ himself from going crazy—but it had been months since he'd heard someone else speak. He got over it quickly. "Yeah? Why should I help you?"

"I've got a couple reasons."

"Why do you even need my help?"

Scarlet's frown deepened. "You're probably not going to believe me; I don't even believe myself. But I'm . . . I'm thinking about leaving the Opposition."

"Really?"

"Don't get so sappy about it. I still hate humans, and I always will. But I don't know if I agree with the Opposition anymore."

Chase shrugged. "Works for me. What do you need my help for?"

"I want you to take me to your friends."

Chase snorted. "Sounds like a trap."

"Maybe it is. I haven't decided yet whether I am leaving the Opposition or not."

"Well, I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I don't know where to find my friends anyway. I don't know if they're still alive."

"Three of them are, and they joined the Resistance."

The Resistance. Chase had heard of the group from Skylar. They were the remains of the old order that wanted to rise and wipe out the Opposition. From his vantage point, they were extremely unsuccessful.

Then Scarlet's words sank in and he realized the implications: someone was dead. He wanted to ask who, but his tongue felt thick and he couldn't bring himself to do it. Besides, Scarlet was already speaking again.

"If I take you out of here, I can restore your powers. I know you have abilities that will take me right to your friends." His GPS app. He didn't know if it would work on this planet, but he had tested it on Lithios and it worked, so he didn't know why it wouldn't work on Caldera.

"And what's to stop me from betraying you as soon as I get my powers back?" He knew the rest of the team teased him for being weak, but between his force field, molecularkinesis, and laser bo, he knew he could take down this alien baddie no problem.

Scarlet leaned in close to the bars of the cell, her short hair swaying against her cheeks. "Your sister is dying."

Chase's head swam as the words sank in. He didn't want to believe them, especially coming from a chronic liar like Scarlet. But deep in his heart, somehow, he knew she was telling the truth.

"She got sick her in prison before she left," Scarlet said. "We were going to tell her and begin treatment, but she escaped before we could."

"That was five months ago."

"The disease she has is called Rilk, _human_ ," Scarlet spat. "It develops over several months, and if it's not treated quickly, it's deadly. There's still time to treat her, but not much, and there's no way the Resistance has proper supplies."

"So if I lead you to the Resistance . . ."

"I can save your sister. Oh, and currently there's a battle going on in the southern rock-fields. Skylar and one of her former-normos are involved in that one, I believe. But if you 'mysteriously escape' from prison, they have to abandon that battle and come back here to find out what happened to you. So I can do you the favor of saving _three_ of your friends at once."

"And why should I believe you? You can come in here and say my sister is dying, but you've lied before. I don't see why I need to listen to you."

"True, you can take that risk. But if your sister dies because she doesn't have the proper medical attention—attention I could've easily given her—that's your fault."

Chase grunted and stood. He didn't have a choice, did he? If it meant his escape, he would go for it. If it meant saving his sister and his friends, he would go for it.

Either Kaz or Oliver was dead. Bree was dying. Skylar and whichever boy had survived were in danger. He couldn't sit in a cell and do nothing.

"So let me get this straight: You get me out of here and alert the rest of your friends so they come here and leave _my_ friends alone. Then you reactivate my bionics so I can find the Resistance and lead you right to them. Then you save my sister's life."

"That's the plan."

"What happens after that?"

"That depends on what I decide. Either I 'join' you guys and help support your cause because I think the Opposition is going too far, or I turn you in because I will always be loyal to my people and my people alone."

"Tough choice."

"So it seems."

Scarlet closed her eyes and walked right through the solid bars of the cell. Chase flinched, but he didn't say anything. He'd seen so much disregard for the laws of physics lately that he didn't even bother questioning it anymore.

"Do we have a deal?" Scarlet asked, her voice smooth yet laced with danger and deceit.

She held out her hand, the palm blackened from holding onto to volcanic rock while dangling above lava. Chase could hardly believe this girl would want to ally herself with him, and looking into her eyes, he could tell she didn't want to. She didn't want to, and perhaps that was why Chase shook her hand. Neither party was totally on board, but both had their reasons for this partnership.

Chase couldn't sit back and let his friends and family die. He couldn't do nothing. He needed out. And if Scarlet killed him in the process, hey, it was better than eternity in this suffocating prison.

To seal their agreement, Chase said in a voice equally smooth and danger-laced, "Deal."

* * *

 **. . . Charlet? Also Skoliver. And hefty amounts of Bryler because they're adorable.**

 **And Bree whump because I'm in that mood. Sorry, Bree. :3**

 **(I guess we all know what happened to Kaz by now . . . I'm so sorry . . .)**

 **I haven't been overly impressed with Elite Force so far (Chase dropped from favorite character two years ago to least favorite character now, that whiny, egotistical, self-centered, delusional brat *trails off muttering*), but I've got to admit, Home Sweet Home really impressed me. (The A-storyline did, anyway. I couldn't care less about Chase's pathetic and desperate attempts to get a girlfriend. I'm still waiting for him to try "having a personality" as a tactic.) I wanted to continue with the idea of the Opposition, and I got this. It's actually partially based off an idea for an original story I had in which the main villain's race (she's also an alien) are enslaved and her whole drive is to rescue them.**

 **Speaking of which *shameless plug* I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year, and for anyone who's doing it and wants to learn about the story I just mentioned ("The Hero Who Fell"), come add me as a buddy! I'm daphrose on there as well. (Main site, not YWP.) And if you're not doing it . . . do it! It's really not as scary as it seems, and the NaNo community is a great one.**

 **Reviews are appreciated, but if you want to tell me you love it, please say why. I spend (** ** _a lot of_** **) time writing the story, so I would really appreciate it if you'd spend time telling me what you really think. Criticize, praise, question, explain. Please and thank you.**

 **Farewell!**


	2. Who Are Your People?

**Yes, I'm continuing this! It'll probably be a four- or five-shot. But I loved this story too much to just let it be, so here's more!**

 **Thanks to all the people who reviewed my first chapter. You guys left such sweet and detailed reviews, and I really appreciated it. Thank you so much.**

 **Ah, I really like this chapter. I hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing it. And for Skoliver fans . . . oh, I** ** _know_** **you'll like it. I don't own Lab Rats: Elite Force or any of its characters/locations. I do own the Tatchalan, the Resistance, Renaka-Iti-Okanel-Eeia-Klavn, and any character you don't recognize. Enjoy.**

* * *

 *** * * Who Are Your People? * * ***

* * *

She didn't remember much, but she did remember collapsing. She remembered Skylar's concerned face as she fell unconscious into her best friend's arms. She remembered the pounding heart, the sheer terror that overtook her. Neither of those had left. She thought sleep—is unconsciousness sleep?—would help, but it didn't. Everything she remembers is still here, still trying to suffocate her.

In a sort of feverish haze, she thought she remembered being kissed, but that must've been a dream. She did still remember some of Skylar's words after she fell unconscious—how did she remember those? Those sweet words of worry, of friendship, of love. She hadn't heard them in a while. She had been in darkness for a long time. She didn't like it. She didn't like it.

Something cool pressed against her forehead, and she couldn't help but sigh. That felt good. Really good. She could hear someone over her, breathing, watching, waiting. She couldn't bring herself to look up, couldn't bother to open her eyes. She felt weak.

She hated feeling weak. She'd always been the weakest on her teams, even if they never admitted it. She was quick to let her brother take the fall, but she knew that _she_ was the one with the fewest abilities, and the most useless ones at that.

Even with superpowers now, she felt insufficient for the team. She felt like she didn't belong. She hated that feeling, but now it manifested itself so extremely in her inner being that she wanted to scream.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder. That terror welled up and she reacted on reflex, gripping the hand and digging into it as hard as she could. She didn't trust herself to say anything, but she found a surprising amount of strength to fight off whatever had grabbed her.

She heard the hiss of pain a few feet from her face and the phrase "What are you, part falcon?"

It felt good to get such a grip on something. It felt good to be able to cause pain and have strength and fight for herself. But the words she heard . . . that voice . . .

Her grip relaxed, and now she utilized all her strength for the monumental task of lifting her eyelids. "Ch- . . . Chase?"

Her theory had been correct. She opened her eyes to a hazy image of her brother. She thought he smiled . . . she still couldn't see well. He looked tired . . . in pain . . . she couldn't see well.

"It's okay, Bree," he said. "Get your rest. You're—" Chase kept talking, but his voice faded out. Bree couldn't concentrate on it. She could still see his face, blurry as it was.

"Chase," she said. Her lips felt dry. Her chest hurt. She couldn't get words out. She couldn't breathe. "You're dead . . . I . . . I must be dead."

Chase chuckled. A soft chuckle. A sad chuckle. "Not yet."

"Good," she said it while exhaling, which somewhat eased the pain of speaking. "I was hoping death wouldn't be . . . wouldn't be this painful."

Now her brother's face hardened. "You need to get your rest, Bree."

She didn't have the strength to protest: there was that weakness again. She hated it, but she didn't know how to make it go away.

Nonetheless, she felt stronger then before. Strong enough to lift her head and look around, to observe, to find out what she had woken up to and why her presumedly-dead brother was squatting above her.

They were in a cave. A Calderan cave. A bright glow emanated from a nearby corridor, suggesting the presence of lava. All in all, it looked exactly like every experience Bree had ever had with Caldera.

Skylar leaned against a nearby wall, her arms folded over her chest. She was staring down at Bree, but not with the concern Bree had expected. Instead her expression indicated . . . apathy?

Wait. Bree blinked, trying to clear her excessively fuzzy vision. No, wait, the girl against the wall wasn't Skylar. The girl had Skylar's face . . . kind of. Skylar's face was kind and gentle, especially around Bree. This girl had a glower that suggested years of emotional turmoil and anger. She had taken Skylar's face and twisted it into some demented, demonic form. This was not Skylar.

Bree knew she knew that girl . . . she had short hair, a red face . . . Bree _knew_ her, but . . . she couldn't think. She groaned at the attempts to draw on memory.

Chase leaned over and touched something to her forehead: something cool. A wet cloth, maybe? Where had he found water this time of year? This kind of place?

She wasn't dead yet, and somehow she knew she would be soon. That overwhelming terror crept into her heart again, kicking into full gear—well, _fuller_ gear. It hurt. It all hurt. She gasped.

Their plight on Caldera would not have an easy remedy. They needed to bring down a powerful alliance of aliens with superpowers. The fight wouldn't be over for a long time, and Bree wanted to be a part of it. She wanted to win so she could go home. She needed to go back to her kinda-somewhat-almost normal life. She needed her friends; she missed them so much. She wanted to see her family again; she hadn't seen them in so long. So long. This fight seemed to drag on forever, and every day they seemed to lose a little more. They kept losing. They couldn't win. The Opposition was too strong.

That girl against the wall. She was with the Opposition. That was how Bree knew her. She was the enemy.

"You," she growled. She tried to sit up, but Chase pressed against her shoulder to keep her down.

"Bree, don't."

"She's . . ." Bree broke off, coughing and gasping. She couldn't breathe. She tried to call to her brother for help, but she couldn't. This girl . . . this enemy . . . it was all her fault.

So much loss and pain, and Bree couldn't do a thing to stop it. She was took weak. She felt overwhelmed. She couldn't think straight. She could feel her body trembling, completely out of her control.

There's a strange feeling that accompanies the particular sickness Bree had. She was simultaneously aware of her insanity and living inside it. She knew the irrationality of her thoughts, but she couldn't control them. To stop them took too much strength; she couldn't fight it. That was how the fear had taken the reigns in the first place, and now the fear had transformed to stronger emotions that clutched and crushed every cell in her body.

Bree could feel her own body betraying her: her mind working to keep her locked in her head, her heart working to stop her, her limbs falling out of her control. Nothing was in her favor. Nothing. Could anyone blame her for the fear?

More pain exploded, spreading. She could feel it as it traveled through her arteries and into her veins and back again. She had experienced electrical shocks before, and these pains were something like that. Except these pains didn't go away after a sharp, half-second jolt. These pains lasted and spread and grew and choked and killed. It's a normal thing to breathe, but the pains stopped her from breathing. They interrupted the most basic ability any human could have, and Bree hated it. She hated it all, but she couldn't stop it. She was so afraid.

Chase put a hand on her chest. She lifted her own hand to place on top of his, but it almost fell off. No strength whatsoever. She blinked, groaned, screamed, and whispered, "I'm sorry," before sinking into more terror-filled screams that left her senseless and hopeless.

* * *

It took several minutes before Bree stopped screaming. Chase could feel the sweat accumulate and roll down his temples, and it wasn't because of the heat. When Bree finally drifted off to sleep, he felt simultaneously relived and terrified. He'd never seen her in so much pain before, and through those unique bonds siblings shared, he felt her pain in his own heart. It twisted and wrenched his guts and left him nauseated. He didn't know what to do or how to help. He loathed that feeling of uselessness.

"Thank goodness," Scarlet said a few seconds after Bree went quiet. "She's going to reveal our position to all of Caldera."

"It's not like I can stop her," Chase said with more bitterness that necessary. "And that's why we came so far into the cave, right? Nobody can hear her down here but us."

Scarlet shrugged. "Sure, but with her screams, I'm pretty sure your family back on _earth_ heard them."

Chase didn't respond. Instead he rolled back on his heels and stood, walking over to the bucket of fresh water in the corner. He lifted the ladle and took a sip, but only a sip. They'd collected the bucket and its contents at the fresh water pools less than a mile north of their current location, but going back too soon would be a risk they couldn't take. So he enjoyed the comforting moisture on his tongue, but he also had to remind himself that Bree needed it more than he did.

The last few days had been . . . interesting, to say the least. Chase hadn't thought that his escape from prison would mean hiding out in another cave without a clue as to what to do next, but lo and behold, here they were. At least he had company now, even if it was his dying sister and a girl who hated his guts.

Their journey away from prison had started innocently enough—as innocent as a jailbreak could be. Scarlet took him out of his cell and restored his bionics. It didn't take long for him to find Bree's location on his GPS, but she was about a half-day's journey away on foot, and Scarlet didn't have super-speed or any means of transportation. So Chase led the way, and Scarlet kept them out of range of any Opposition fighters. "They won't expect you to be traveling with help . . . certainly not inside help," she explained.

"Unless you're leading me into a trap," Chase replied.

"Yes. Unless I'm doing that."

They didn't talk much. Neither of them were, by nature, chatty, so they were content with the silence that settled between them. It wasn't an awkward silence, merely an untrusting one. Each had their superhuman faculties ready to attack the other at a moment's notice, and any sudden movement would result in the beginnings of a laser or energy blast in the other's palm. Then they'd calm down enough to give each other a cool glare and continue walking.

When Chase's internal clock told him they'd been walking for six hours, Scarlet explained that there were fresh water pools ahead—the only such pools on the whole planet. Chase nearly collapsed with relief. Calderans could go for extended periods without water, but humans were not so durable, even bionic ones, and the small water supply Scarlet had brought for the journey was getting low. So he requested a stop at the pool and Scarlet agreed. "I need you alive," she said, but it wasn't the joke Chase hoped it would be.

Only a few beings stood around the pools, and the jagged rocks between them kept Chase and Scarlet hidden from sight. As much as Chase wanted to get away from this potential enemy, he knew any move would jeopardize not only his own life, but his sister's. So they kept their heads down and went about their business.

The pools had free buckets so water could be carried away. Chase took one of these and filled it up. As would be expected, the combined weight of bucket and water took a great deal of force to lift. Nonetheless, water was essential for Chase to live, so he carried it dutifully with him. But he didn't carry it far.

They still had two hours to go to get to Bree's location, and the Calderan night was settling in. To Chase, it didn't look like night at all: Caldera's four suns kept it constantly light out, which explained the natives' lack of ability to see in the dark. Nonetheless, for the equivalent of about twelve earth hours, the suns dimmed slightly, and that was a Calderan night. Chase didn't see a big deal about traveling during this so-called night, but Scarlet warned against it. The "nocturnal" creatures of Caldera were vicious, especially towards small groups. So the two sought out a cave not far from the pools. They used this time to develop a plan.

It wasn't much of a plan. Go to Bree's location, find a way into the undoubtedly guarded Resistance base, and save her life. Given their lack of information, they couldn't come up with anything better than that.

After a few hours in the cave, Scarlet began to yawn and blink. She scowled at Chase. "If you kill me in my sleep, I'll repay you in kind, _human_ ," she said.

Chase shrugged. "I still need you, remember?"

Scarlet nodded. "You'd better remember."

It only took a few minutes for her to fall asleep. She didn't snore like Skylar did, so Chase figured snoring must not be a Calderan trait. Still, he knew that Skylar was often a heavy sleeper—he counted on _that_ being a Calderan trait when he stood and exited the cave.

Bree's GPS locator showed she hadn't moved from her position two hours north. Chase would need to be quick before Scarlet woke up and noticed he was gone. If he ran, he could cut the time in half. He would have to quick, so he couldn't take water. He stopped by the pools for a drink, but the rest of the run would be without food or water.

 _Food_. For land's sake, he was hungry. Scarlet had brought some food with her, but she rationed it carefully and kept most for herself. Chase had hardly eaten all day, and he had expended enormous amounts of energy. Even as a prisoner used to starvation as a torture method, he could feel the emptiness in his stomach trying to claw its way out. He let out a soft groan and pushed the thoughts of his physical needs to the back of his mind. He was a bionic hero. He had been in worse situations before . . . kind of. He could push though this. He could make it. For Bree, he could make it. For home, he could make it. He _needed_ to make it.

So he ran. He ran with Bree as his inspiration, in more ways that one. His legs pumped and the rocks blurred past him. The Calderan night, still brighter than most days on earth, left a silence around him. The whole planet seemed asleep, and only one bionic hero dared to put himself out in the middle of nowhere.

Chase didn't understand why Scarlet had been so afraid of the night . . . but then he did. With only a few more miles left until he would reach Bree, a pack of animals sauntered out of the rocks and cut him off. He stood still, and so did they. They looked something like wolves with red fur, angular faces, and thin tails. They looked bored, almost, as they sized up their potential prey. Chase started to move, and so did they. Still looking bored, still sauntering, they came up to him and nipped at his ankles. Chase shook them off and began to run again. If these creatures weren't a threat, then he wouldn't bother treating them as such. He took off; he had no time to waste.

Then his face was in the dirt and claws were in his back. One of the wargs had tackled Chase from behind and now had him pinned to the ground. He could hear its low growling in his hear, could feel its oddly icy breath on his neck. He swung around and kicked it off, and the others leapt in to keep the prey from escaping.

Chase threw up his force field to keep them off, and that momentarily stunned them. But they didn't leave; instead, the continued to throw themselves at the field, draining bits of Chase's energy with every hit. After running for so long with no food, Chase's energy was already at an all-time low. The field gave way and the creatures lunged at Chase's face. He activated his laser bo to fend them off, but already he could tell that he was losing the fight. He was easy quarry, all alone with little strength. But he had will, and, as the humans say, when there's a will, there's a way.

In this case, the way came through a Calderan boy with electrified daggers. He screamed as he entered Chase's periphery, and for a moment the bionic boy thought he would have yet another foe to defeat—a battle he would almost certainly lose. But instead the boy turned out to be Chase's salvation. He drove his daggers into the wargs' sides with frantic, nonsensical yells. Chase stayed still on the ground, full of awe and fear.

Once the last of the wargs had fled, tails between their legs and teeth barred with their desire for revenge, the boy came over and knelt down beside Chase. He had a goofy smile and long hair dangling in front of equally goofy eyes. "It's pretty dangerous to be out here at night all by yourself," he said. "The Tatchalan like to pick on solitary beings."

"I don't see you with anybody." Chase accepted the boy's outstretched arm and blinked with surprise at the ease with which the Calderan hoisted him to his feet. Chase almost fell right over again.

"Nah, I like to be by myself." The boy kept smiling. "But that means I know how to fight off Tatchalan. You've got to yell like a maniac and stick them with these." He held up his daggers, still sparking with electricity. He holstered them in his belt and the hissing went silent, indicating that the voltage came not from the weapons themselves but from the boy.

"Well, thank you for saving me."

"No problem. I love a good Tatchalan fight, anyway. By the way, I'm Renaka-Iti-Okanel-Eeia-Klavn."

Chase blinked. "You got a nickname?"

The boy laughed. "Yeah, call me Ren. You're not from around here, are you, human?"

 _Human_. Scarlet said it often as an insult, and so did most other Opposition members. But that wasn't how Ren said it. He said as a fact, because it was. No in a cruel or demeaning way, like he thought humans were lesser than him. Maybe there was some hope in this boy.

"What was the first clue?" Chase said. He was still trying to collect his wits after being so violently attacked, and small talk with Ren helped.

"Well, you're out at night, for one thing. That's a start." Ren's smile got even bigger. "You got a name, human?"

Still not cruel. "Yeah, I'm Chase."

The boy cocked an eyebrow. "Chase? Chase Davenport?"

"Um . . ." Oh no. He shouldn't have given away his name. Really, how many humans males named Chase were on Caldera? The Opposition would find him and drag him back to prison, and there would go his chances of saving his sister.

"You are Chase Davenport!" Ren said. Then he cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "You look a lot like your sister, you know."

Chase shouldn't have said anything, but he couldn't help it. He needed to know. "You know my sister? Where is she? Is she okay?"

"Well . . . it's a long story . . ."

"I know she's sick."

"Oh. Then it's not a long story at all."

"Where is she?"

"She's back at the Resistance base."

"You're with the Resistance!"

"Duh. That's why I'm sneaking around at night." Ren pursed his lips. "Well . . . I was sneaking around at night before I joined the Resistance . . . but I actually have a good reason now."

"Can you take me to Bree?"

"Sure thing. I was going to head back soon anyway. Follow me."

Chase would be eternally grateful for Ren's instant trust. Anyone with more cynicism might have turned Chase away or put him through some kind of test, but Ren didn't question things and instead led Chase right to the Resistance's biggest secret: the location of the hidden base.

Obviously Chase already had Bree's location, and therefore that of the base. But he never would've found his way inside with Ren's help. The entrence into the base required a complicated route through cave tunnels, moving stones on the ground into a specific pattern to alert a guard you wanted to enter, and saying your name in a very specific way. Then the guard pulled down the wall with geokinesis, verified your identity, and pulled down another wall to let you into the base.

"I've got to tell people you're here; they've been looking for you for so long!" Ren said as they walked into a naturally formed foyer.

"Please, can we go to my sister first?" Chase had more than one reason for asking that, but Ren only needed to believe that a brother had a deep longing to see his sister again. Luckily, Ren was the believing type.

"Of course. The infirmary's this way."

They walked down the high-ceilinged, cavernous hallways and only took one detour into the kitchen—at Chase's request. He ate a loaf of bread voraciously, slow enough not to get a stomachache, but fast enough to ease the intense pain of malnourishment.

As they moved through the base, there were beings awake and walking around, even at this hour, but few had even glanced in Chase's direction. There were humans and a variety of other alien creatures that made Skylar look like a normal teenage girl, and all seemed to be caught up in their own business. They didn't recognize or care about Chase, and he was fine with that.

After several minutes, they finally made it to the infirmary. It was a small, dank room with bright lights built into the walls and a few scrappy pieces of furniture lying around. In the middle of it was Bree on a cot, barely breathing, surrounded by wires that didn't seem to be accomplishing much.

"I'll leave you alone with her," Ren said. "I'll let your friends know you're here. Skylar and Oliver have been dying to find out what happened to you." He slipped out of the room and Chase was alone.

 _Oliver_. So Kaz was dead. Chase only allowed his brain to venture down that alley for a second, and then he pulled it back to the present. Now was not the time to mourn; he would be mourning Bree's death as well if he didn't do something quickly.

Chase walked over to Bree's side and grabbed her hand. An idea had formed during his hour-long run, and while he didn't know if it would work, it was probably his only shot. If Skylar and Oliver saw him, or if Scarlet woke up, everything would be ruined. He had to do this now and get the hang of it fast.

The wires came off without much effort, and Bree didn't look any worse than when she'd had them in. Chase began to suspect that didn't really do anything, or at least anything useful for Bree's situation. He hoisted his sister into his arms. He could feel her trembling, even unconscious. He began to understand the seriousness of whatever it was she was suffering from. She felt small and strange in his arms, and Chase began to feel that odd love and overprotection that all siblings deny but still have anyway.

"Don't worry, Bree, I'll make sure you get better. Even if it means possibly betraying our friends . . ."

Chase could still abort his plan. He could let Skylar and Oliver find him . . . oh, how he wanted to see them again. It had been months, and he missed them so much. But Bree needed his help, and Scarlet was the only one who _could_ help. She'd explained to him the lack of support of the Resistance, which meant little medical care, and certainly no care for something as advanced as Rilk. The Resistance couldn't help Bree, Oliver and Skylar couldn't help Bree . . . Chase couldn't stay. Bree was more important to him than battle lines.

So Chase activated his override app and attempted something new. Instead of simply taking control of Bree's body, he accessed her list of abilities and initiated her invisibility. He knew from experience that Bree could turn objects touching her skin invisible as well, which was how she kept her clothes from being seen. She did this through her own willpower, but now Chase was in control. So he willed for Bree's invisibility to spread to him, and he sighed with relief when it worked. He could still see himself and Bree, but they had a shimmery, see-through characteristic that came with being invisible.

Chase had overridden an unconscious person's bionics, activated a bionic ability, and spread that ability to himself. It was a day full of firsts.

There was no time to stop and congratulate himself. He had to get back before anyone else noticed what happened . . . before Scarlet woke up and thought he'd betrayed her. So Chase snuck out of the room and down the hall. With the invisibility on, he felt much more confident, but he tried not to be cocky. That would only doom them.

When he reached the place where he had entered the base, Chase realized that he didn't know how to get out. The guard had lifted the wall again, leaving no way through. Chase contemplated what to do when another Resistance member walked up, tapped on the wall, and it slid away. Chase slipped into the compartment with the guard and the alien exiting, and he ran out when the second wall went down. He could hear the two behind him discussing a strange noise, but he didn't care. He was out and he was free, and he needed to run.

Oh, he wished Bree was awake so she could run him back herself. But of course, if she was awake and had the energy for super-speed, he wouldn't need to go back in the first place. As it was, the bread supplied to him in the base gave him energy enough to keep up the override app and do a combination of running and walking back to the cave. He used his GPS to find the way, deactivating the override app—and therefore the invisibility—every so often to save energy.

When he got back to the cave more than an hour later, he set Bree on the ground and collapsed in a heap on the floor. He looked up to see Scarlet with that familiar scowl on her face.

"So . . ." she began.

"I didn't betray you," he said before she could finish. "They don't know about you, and only one person even knows I was in that base."

"You said you would take me there."

"Actually, I didn't." Chase sat up in a more respectable pose. "I said I would take you to my sister. That was our deal."

"No, it was if you took me to your friends . . . your _friends_ being the _Resistance_."

"Bree is my friend . . . kind of." Chase wrinkled his nose. He loved Bree, but he would always be her brother. "I don't know anyone is the Resistance besides her, Skylar, and Oliver. I took you to her . . . or more accurately, I took her to you. Now save her life." He paused. Might as well be polite about it. "Please."

Scarlet scowled again. She stood and walked over to Bree, kneeling beside her. She drew a syringe out of the backpack she had been carrying around with her supplies.

"You had the medicine with you the whole time?"

"If I told you, you would've just attacked me for it. Don't complain; this'll save her life faster."

Scarlet lifted Bree's wrist and plunged the syringe into her vein. Bree let out a soft groan, but nothing else happened.

"Now what?" Chase asked.

Scarlet gripped Bree's wrist, feeling for a pulse. Then she put a hand on the unconscious girl's forehead. For a moment, she almost looked remorseful. "I didn't realize it had progressed this far already. Sometimes . . . sometimes the treatment doesn't work this far along." Again, a flash of remorse. Did Scarlet really care about Bree? About a human? "Either way, the disease has to finish. The treatment only keeps it from killing you; you have to wait out the whole thing. So I guess we'll have to wait and see. If she dies, it didn't work. If she doesn't die but she suffers horribly over the next few weeks, then it did work."

"Weeks?"

"I'm sorry we're not on earth with all your hospitals and painkillers. Here on Caldera we just throw someone into a lava pit and hope it cures them. It's usually less painful than the alternative." Scarlet frowned even more and scratched her wrist. "Just get her some water and wait. There's nothing else I could do even if I wanted to. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to figure out if I want to kill you now or use you more."

"You've got no advantage over my anymore."

"Of course I do. You might be able to hold a fight against me, but"—Scarlet gestured to Bree—"she won't. If you try to betray me again I'll kill her."

Scarlet didn't bluff. It always seemed to come down to Bree being in danger, and Chase would do anything to save her. The strength of love had become his weakness . . . but he didn't care.

That all led them to the next day after Bree had been brought to the cave. Chase and Scarlet still lived in a tenuous alliance, each watching out for hints of betrayal or attack from the other. It was exhausting, and taking care of a sick girl didn't help. After only half a day of it, they both seemed to want the suspicion to come to an end. Nonetheless, they knew it never would, so they continued to glare at each other while Bree screamed.

* * *

Skylar bit her lip and stood. "I'm going out."

Oliver grabbed her arm and pulled her back down beside him. "No. We've got units in every sector; if we send out any more the Opposition is going to get suspicious and find us. We can't risk it."

Skylar buried her face in her hands. "I can't sit around and do nothing. We've got to find her."

"Calm down, Skylar. We—"

She jerked her head up. "'Calm down'? Really? How are _you_ so calm right now? We can't lost another person on this team."

Oliver looked down at his boots and muttered, "Well, technically, we know Chase is alive now."

Skylar scowled. Renaka had told them about about Chase showing up to the base in the middle of the night. He'd spread the word around and even sought out Skylar and Oliver personally. They rushed to the infirmary eager to see their friend . . . only to find no one there, and Bree gone. The whole base was searched, and no one could track where Chase went. No one even saw him leave the infirmary. He disappeared into thin air, and the general consensus was that he'd taken his sister with them.

Multiple theories got tossed around about the situation. Some believed that it wasn't Chase, but a look-alike who had fooled Renaka (who admittedly was not the brightest). Or maybe it was a shape-shifter—uncommon on Caldera, but not unheard of. The most popular theory, however, was that Chase had either been brainwashed or persuaded to join the Opposition. That was the worst-case-scenario, and many in the Resistance believed it. Skylar knew Chase would never join willingly; he had a will of iron and strong constitution when times were tough. She wanted to believe this strength could help him resist any kind of brainwashing, but who could say? If it was the original Chase Davenport who had come into the base last night, maybe that had been the Opposition's plan all along. Maybe that was why they hadn't used him as bait: they wanted to use him as a traitor instead.

The only thing that didn't fit with this theory was Chase's short time in the base. If he was working for the Opposition, surely he would've stayed longer to gain more information about them. Then again, as soon as the base's location was known, it would be over. The Resistance leaders had spent the whole morning debating about whether or not to move out. Renaka had slunk off before the morning came, ashamed and afraid. Skylar felt bad for him, but then again, his naïvety had caused the disappearance of her friend and a possibly compromise of their entire operation.

Now Skylar wanted to do nothing more than go out and look for Bree, and maybe Chase. But Oliver was right: several teams had been dispatched, and to send out too many would alert Opposition soldiers and leave the base vulnerable. If the Opposition knew the base's location already, the Resistance couldn't afford to send away its best fighters.

The past two days had left Skylar so exhausted that she wanted to lie down and sleep until winter—a desire that conflicted greatly with her desire to see Bree again. Skylar had gone out to rescue Oliver and his team from the Opposition soldiers, but oddly enough, the Opposition seemed to retreat before the battle ended. They could've won easily, but they must've gotten some kind of urgent news. They left in waves until they'd all gone, but not before giving the Resistance a beating. A handful of soldiers on either side had died that day, but if the Opposition hadn't pulled out, those numbers would be much higher.

So they'd gotten out of that scrape alive. They'd gone back to base licking their wounds—in some cases, literally—and wondering why the Opposition hadn't obliterated them on the spot. Then while they rested that night, Renaka spread around the news that Chase Davenport was alive and in the base. Then Chase or whoever-it-really-was took Bree. Emotions and physical strength had been drained and battered, much more for Oliver and Skylar than anyone else.

The two sat together in one of the small meeting rooms off the main hallway of the base. It was surprisingly cool for a cave inside a volcano, and the dim electric torches on the wall provided enough light for Calderans to see. The room wasn't large and contained only a table and a few seats, as well as carved out holes in the wall for lounging. It was in one of these holes that Skylar and Oliver sat next to each other, listening to each other breathe.

"I know you're stressed out," Oliver said. He said it slowly, calmly, as if he expected Skylar to lash out at him at any moment. She gave a small sigh and closed her eyes, letting him know that she wouldn't interrupt. She could sense his small, sad smile. "But panicking won't do us any good. We've got to think logically; rushing out there will only endanger Bree's life more. We don't know what's going on right now, so we've got to be careful."

Skylar exhaled and put a hand on Oliver's knee. "I know. Now's not the time to be rash. I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry. Trust me, I'm freaking out on the inside, too. I don't like the idea of losing another friend." He put his own hand on top of Skylar's.

"Bree's become like a sister to me." Skylar was about to cry. She _hated_ to cry, but she was about to cry. "I don't think I can . . ."

"I know what you're going through. I went through the same thing with Kaz, remember? I'm _still_ going through it. I don't know what happened to him either, and he's probably dead by now. Really, Skylar, I understand. I understand that almost nothing I say is going to help you. The only thing that's really going to help is seeing Bree again. And until that can happen, the most I can do is just be here for you, to listen to you and cry with you."

Skylar's eyes felt warmer by the minute. She blinked several times. "You have no idea how much that means to me." Her voice caught in her throat and she swallowed. Ever so slowly, she leaned her head against Oliver's shoulder. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, and she marveled at how secure and loved that simple gesture made her feel.

"You know, Oliver," she said after a few minutes of silence, "I like this a lot better. I don't like it when you're creepy, but . . . I like it when you're sweet. Like this. You're a good friend."

Oliver stiffened beside her, but then he seemed to melt. He leaned his own head on top of Skylar's. He turned his face and planted a kiss on her head. "I'm always here if you need me."

Skylar closed her eyes, but she still felt a tear slip through. "I need you," she whispered, almost inaudibly. But Oliver heard it. He understood. He pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her.

Caldera, Skylar's home, had fallen into ruins. It was a world divided, literally. Her people were either in near-slavery to an oppressive new order or risking their lives to depose said order. Her second home on earth had been ripped away from her. Her friends had been in danger because of the stupid choices of her people. Kaz was probably dead. Chase was probably under the Opposition's control. Bree was sick, missing, and dying. Everything was wrong, and Skylar didn't know how to fix it.

So to sit here with Oliver in silence for a few minutes, to cry softly into his shoulder as he comforted without judging, gave Skylar the strength she needed. She was made to help others, but that didn't stop her from needing help herself. Oliver understood that. She still had Oliver, and she knew he would always be there for her. He was trustworthy and brave and kind. . . . She hadn't been lying when she said he was a good friend. She loved him enough to let him see her cry. She needed to cry. She needed to let it out. Life was overwhelming and crushing her heart in its cruel grip. She needed a place of safety and comfort.

For this one beautiful moment, she found it in Oliver's arms.

* * *

They both heard it at the same time. Chase turned up his head, and Scarlet did, too. She scowled at him. Right, they both had super-senses. Stupid human with his stupid powers and stupid face. Every moment she was in his presence was another moment she regretted taking him out of prison. He deserved to rot there forever, even if the Opposition turned out to be wrong and too cruel for Scarlet's taste. Stupid human.

The stupid human and the Calderan stood as they heard another noise. Chase looked over at Scarlet and mouthed, "Footsteps." She deepened her scowl. Duh it was footsteps. Did he think she didn't know it was footsteps? The bigger problem was finding out what caused those footsteps.

That could be almost anybody. Maybe it was some Calderan scavengers looking for food, or a pack of Dorenbosch seeking shelter. Or it could be the Resistance or the Opposition. Any way it went, the two refugees would have a lot to explain. A sickening feeling entered Scarlet's stomach when she realized that almost everyone on the planet was now their enemy.

To get up and leave now would be near impossible. They could head further into the cave, but that increased their risk of getting lost or walking into a cavern too hot and lava-filled for them to live, not to mention they would be trapped inside. They'd need to carry Bree and their water, plus Scarlet's supplies. She scooped up her bag in case she needed to make a run for it.

But neither of them had time to run. Chase didn't even have time to try to pick up Bree.

"Freeze!" A female Calderan entered the room, a throwing knife clutched in her fingers and pointed straight at Scarlet's heart. Behind her, several more beings crowded the corridor. Scarlet lifted her hands, still scowling, as always. These weren't Opposition members.

"Resistance," she spat. "What're you doing here?"

"You're with the Resistance?" Chase said. He took a step towards the girl. "Thank goodness. I'm—"

"I know who you are, Davenport," the girl hissed. She moved her knife so it was pointed at Chase. Her eyes flicked to Bree and then narrowed. Behind her the other Resistance members prepared their weapons. "Don't try anything funny."

Chase put his hands up in the air, his face scrunched in confusion. Scarlet wanted to laugh. Of course the Resistance hated him by now. They knew he'd been at the base, and now suddenly he and his sister were missing. They probably thought he was a traitor. That thought gave Scarlet a great amount of satisfaction.

"You're coming back with us," the girl said.

Scarlet felt her blood run cold. She still didn't know what she wanted to do. She loved her people so much, but neither the Opposition nor the Resistance seemed the way to go. She wanted those stupid humans off her planet for good, and she wanted heroes like Skylar to stay behind and help their world. Why couldn't everyone just sees things Scarlet's way? Why did everyone have to go and convolute everything? It was all supposed to be so simple: lock Caldera away from the galaxy, bring their heroes home, and rebuild their civilization. Yet the Opposition had managed to tear it in two, and the Resistance wouldn't hear of the isolationism. Both groups had ruined Caldera in their own way, and Scarlet felt sick. She hated it all. She hated being caught between these two sides. She hated having to get a human boy's help. She hated that she couldn't save her people and her planet and return to the way things were before Skylar left her all alone. She hated it all.

One thing she knew, however, was that if she was going down, she wouldn't be the only one.

Ever so carefully, Scarlet slipped her hand into her pocket. Still, the girl noticed and turned her knife back to its original target.

"Don't move, Scarlet."

Her heart hammered in her chest, but she didn't let her fear show. She needed time. Chase was only a few feet away from her, and with her agility she could cover that distance easily and quickly. "I guess I'm famous now, huh?"

"Something like a celebrity, yes," the girl said with a frightful glare. Scarlet almost envied her. "Now put your hands where I can see them."

Scarlet had grabbed her desired object: a small stunner. She'd done her research before asking Chase for help. A jolt from that device should be enough to temporarily disable his bionics and most likely knock him unconscious. She'd kept it as a safeguard in case she needed to get him back under control, but it would work in this situation as well. If she going down, this stupid human would go down with her.

With a yell, Scarlet leapt at Chase and jammed the stunner to his neck. Poor boy didn't even see it coming. He dropped to the ground gasping and then lay eerily still. Bree shrieked, so either she'd woken up and saw what had happened or was in the throes of another spasm of pain. Maybe both.

Scarlet didn't have time to process before the knife flew through the air and stuck in her shoulder, sending her reeling. She had just registered the pain when something struck her upside the head, she fell over completely, and darkness overtook her.

* * *

The only light in the hole was provided by some sort of window thirty feet above his head. The light of moving lava shone through and lit up the space below. About twenty feet above that he could see the cliff that probably led to an exit, and above that, at last, was a ceiling.

He'd tried climbing the walls many times, but always without success. They were rocky but sheer in most places, and they jutted out at random angles. His climbing attempts always ended with a fall and, more often than not, dislocated joints. He gave up eventually.

Yes, his prison was some sort of pit. He couldn't climb out, and there was no other exit. If there was he would've found it by now.

How long had he been down here? Days. Weeks. Months. Years.

Okay, probably not years. He doubted that much time had passed. But he genuinely had no way to tell. With no sunlight, a disjointed sleep schedule, and a couple days (weeks?) of fever that left him completely helpless and unaware, he had no way to tell the correct time. He didn't know day from night and often debated about whether such things still existed.

The area at the base of the pit was a good size, enough for him to jog around if he had the strength. It was bare aside from a few rocks, which he often used to play games or create sculptures. Anything to pass the time.

He would sit and think and then stand and scream and then collapse and concentrate on breathing. It was a rough life, a strange life, a painful life.

He missed his friends and his family. He missed his home. He couldn't remember precisely how he wound up in this hole, but he knew what planet he was on and why. He wanted to go home now.

There had never been a moment in the hole without some kind of wound, bruise, or sharp, stabbing pain gracing his body with its presence. When he'd woken up in the hole the first time, he'd been caked in blood and unable to move for a long while. Those were the most feverish days, and his first impressions of the hole had been skewed by hallucinations and fatigue. Not that the hole improved at all when he got better, but at least the faces laughing at him in the wall had been only a figment of his imagination.

Those initial wounds healed. New ones appeared as his desperation to find an escape led to frantic climbing, digging, and throwing. But his escape attempts were not the primary cause of the new wounds. The primary cause was the Visitor.

The Visitor was the reason he was still alive . . . and also the reason he had nearly died many times. The Visitor brought food, water, and medicine. But the Visitor also fought him and beat him senseless.

He always knew when the Visitor would arrive. The window above his head disappeared, causing darkness so complete that holding his hand centimeters from his face revealed nothing. Then would come a soft _thump_ , and from this sound he gathered that the Visitor fell from above. A few soft steps across the rock, then a fist connected with his cheek. The fights changed in style every time, but they were always hand-to-hand combat. Clearly the Visitor had some kind of superhuman power, because they did things during the fights he couldn't explain, such as moving to another location more rapidly than they should. But these powers didn't show up much in the fights, and for that he was grateful.

He used to have superhuman powers himself. He hadn't for a long time. If he did, he would've used them to get out of the hole a long time ago and go home. But he couldn't. Not anymore.

Then after the Visitor left him lying beaten and bruised on the floor, they would simply disappear. The window would reopen and shower its light on him, leaving him to review the extent of his injuries. But there in center of the ground would be a bowl with food, a bucket of water, and, more often the not, bandages, antiseptic, or other medicinal help. Most of the time he had to take several minutes to gather his strength before he could crawl over and enjoy these goodies. As much as he wanted to gulp them down instantly, he always managed to ration. He wouldn't get any more until the Visitor returned.

So went his life. The Visitor showed up what he deemed to be every few days. The rest of the time he got to eat, drink, and help his body along in the healing process. He'd found ways to entertain himself: he'd created worlds out of rocks, scratched names in the dirt, and made a game out of climbing one particular part of the wall where a fall was nearly harmless.

He didn't like it, but he didn't know what else to do. He'd never seen the Visitor's face, and his pleas for release were never answered or acknowledged. Simple questions didn't even get a grunt in reply. The Visitor was entirely silent every time they came. Every time, that is, except for one.

The one time was a day—or night—like any other. The Visitor hadn't come for a while, so he began to except them. His water supply was dangerous low and he could feel the beginning effects of what he assumed to be dehydration—though for all he knew it could also be food poisoning or infection. He could never tell.

The window shut, leaving him in darkness. _Thump_. The soft approach of the Visitor. His leg had been injured during their last encounter, so he couldn't effectively move out of the way. The fist collided with his face and he fell to the ground. The Visitor kicked him in the stomach, but he leapt up, thrashing about wildly until he grabbed hold of what he assumed were the Visitor's shoulders. They wrestled for several minutes, as usual.

Then the Visitor threw him to the ground. He could fell them lean over him, and he braced for another attack, but instead he heard the words, "I think you're ready."

The window rolled open, and he looked up as the Visitor stood and his identity was revealed: a Calderan male with some kind of headpiece hiding his eyes. He lifted it, blinked, and smoothed his hair out of his face.

The boy in the hole knew this Calderan. They might all look alike, but nothing could stop him from recognizing that suit, that smirk, those dangerous and evil dark eyes.

"Experion," he said as he exhaled.

"I guess you finally know it's me now," Experion said. "Which is good. You're ready now, after all."

He squinted. He didn't trust Experion, the traitor, escaped convict, and Opposition lackey. He knew that Experion was his enemy for multiple reasons, but that didn't stop his interest in what he had said. After all, at the moment, Experion was his only connection to the outside world. Would he finally get to leave?

"I've been fighting you all this time?" He wanted to stand, but his ribs hurt every time he inhaled . . . and exhaled . . . and held his breath.

"Sure."

"You're a Calderan. You can't see in the dark."

Experion held up the headpiece. "For the sake of simplicity, let's call them night-vision goggles."

"What's going on? Why are you fighting me? Why haven't you killed me? Why haven't you let me out?"

"That's a lot of questions. You'll know the answers soon."

"What do you want to do with me?"

Experion smiled. "I want to give you your superpowers back."

He looked up with rapt attention. All the warning bells in his brain about Experion's evilness got dampened by his desire to have powers again.

"I want to give you your superpowers back," the villain continued, "and I want to take you back to your friends. There's a lot going on out there, and now's the perfect time to bring you back into the fight." Experion motioned to a spot where he must've already set down the usually food and water before the fight. This time, however, there was a vial of red liquid beside the bucket. "Drink that," Experion said, "and you'll get your powers back."

"Will it turn me evil?" He needed to ask, even if he wanted nothing more than to rush right over there and swallow the whole thing.

"I swear by Azimeth that it won't turn you evil. It will, however, be extremely painful."

He looked up so sharply that his neck ached.

"That's why I've been fighting you. If you could survive down here for so long, in so much pain, then you can survive this. Probably."

"Seems better than the alternative."

"That's true. I've leave it down here with you. If you drink it, you'll be in pain for several hours, but your powers will return. Then I'll take it back to your friends. And if you don't, you'll repeat the same cycle we've had for eight months."

Eight months! That was it.

"Why would you want to do this for me?"

Experion sighed. "I know you probably don't think much of me, but I actually do have good reasons. I might be a part of the Opposition, but I also know they need to fall."

"You're actually trying to be the good guy now?"

"Trust me, I have reasons of my own." Experion leaned forward and grinned. "I'm creating my own super soldier."

The window closed and there was a _whoosh_. When the light came back, Experion was gone, the vial was still there, and Kaz was left with a choice.

* * *

 **Pain and Choice. Seems to be the theme of this story.**

 **Kaz is alive. Bree is still dying. Chase and Scarlet are injured. Oliver and Skylar are in love. :3 I'd say this story is a success so far.**

 **So, what did you think? Reviews, as always, are appreciated but not required. I love to hear your thoughts, and I'm hoping you had a lot of thoughts about this chapter. So much happened, huh? Well, tell me if you liked it, didn't like it, laughed, cried, grinned, etc.**

 **I'll get the next chapter out as soon as I can, but seeing as how long these are turning out, it might be a bit. They take a lot of work, but I want to give you the best. Thanks for reading! Bye!**


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